


Complicated Little Emotions

by Writingwife83



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: F/M, Friends to Lovers, Friendship/Love, Happy Ending, I love you/coffin scene, Light Angst, Post-Episode: s04e03 The Final Problem, Romance, Sherlock Holmes Has Feelings, Sherlock Is A Bit Not Good
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-18
Updated: 2017-01-23
Packaged: 2018-09-18 07:49:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,165
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9375143
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Writingwife83/pseuds/Writingwife83
Summary: Before Molly even saw his name on the screen of her phone, she was already thinking about Sherlock Holmes. Both she and Sherlock went into that staged phone call with some unseen baggage. Now that the dust has settled, they'll need to rebuild what was very nearly lost.**3rd place winner in the 2017 SAMFA for Best Drama in K-T**





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Amalia Kensington (amaliak01)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/amaliak01/gifts).



> I've stressed about this fic way too much in my brain lol. I think THE scene is such a big deal that it's making me put a lot of pressure on myself to create something *worthy* of being inspired by it. My lack of confidence slowed the speed of posting anything, so my apologies for that. But it turns out that this is going to be a 2 part fic, so hey that's not a bad thing right?! :D The bad news is that the first part has no direct Sherlock and Molly interactions. You'll just have to be patient. That'll come in part 2. ;)

_The door to her flat shut, not even hard, but it still made Molly wince in pain. She stood there for a few moments, frozen with her arms crossed tightly over her middle as she felt heat pool in her face and pressure build throat. She could hardly breathe at first, and when her body finally insisted on air, the process became an agonizing combination of respiration and sobbing._

_With her vision now horribly blurred, Molly marched down the hallway and into her bedroom. The force of her steps set Toby on alert and he jetted from the bed to hide underneath the armchair by her window. Which was fortunate for him, seeing as Molly was in no mood to be gentle with the bed linens._

_She whipped the duvet and sheet from off the bed and tossed it on the floor, along with the throw blanket that hung on the footboard. She violently removed the pillow cases; all four regular ones and the two shams. Amongst sobs that were growing louder by the moment, she climbed onto the bed to tug the corners of the fitted sheets and mattress pad away from the mattress, sniffling as she finally balled them up and chucked them at the floor along with the rest of the items._

_She collapsed then, atop her completely bare bed, curling up and weeping uncontrollably. How stupid she felt; utterly ridiculous and childish! Molly couldn’t even believe that she’d managed to convince herself that somehow things would be anything other than what they were this morning. How, in the moments that it took for her to make that decision the night before, did she conclude that things would somehow turn out well?_

_Molly lay there fifteen minutes later, spent from crying, staring blankly up at her ceiling. Toby felt it safe to join her and she absentmindedly scratched his fuzzy head and felt the soft rumbling of his purring against her side. It hurt so badly to lay there feeling like she did at that moment. The contrast to twelve short hours before was so very extreme. It really was too awful to dwell on. She decided that she really shouldn’t._

_A few minutes later, Molly Hooper forced herself to get up, start the linens washing, get ready for work, and get on with her life._

* * *

 

Sherlock pulled up a chair and sat down across from his brother, both of their expressions weary, even three weeks after their lives completely changed. Mycroft dumped a file on the desk in front of Sherlock and smiled tightly.

“All loose ends officially tied then?” Sherlock questioned softly as he picked up the file.

“Yes, I should say so. Even Mummy and Daddy seem relatively at ease.” Mycroft sighed. “Largely thanks to you.”

The two brothers exchanged a look for a moment, both fully aware of the part that each of them had played, good and bad, and the way their lives would never be the same.

Mycroft drew a deep breath. “Oh and the search was done, as you requested. During the work day of course, so she was completely unaware.”

Sherlock’s leaned forward in interest and he set the file down again. “And?”

“Completely clear of danger, as Eurus stated. No explosives. We found the surveillance cameras though. All have been removed from Molly Hooper’s flat.”

Sherlock released a breath. “Good,” he stated softly. “Thank you, Mycroft.”

“Interestingly,” Mycroft went on. “The surveillance was not just found in her kitchen. There were also cameras found in each room of her flat. “

The younger Holmes eyes widened a bit as he listened to his brother.

“Naturally she could have been in any room when answering her mobile and that had to be accounted for, but it would also explain why Eurus would have been so sure of herself when setting up that particular challenge for you. Especially since the cameras had been there for at least a few weeks. Enough time to collect a bit of dust…and the necessary evidence.”

"Evidence? What evidence?” Sherlock fired back.

Mycroft smiled in his typical know-it-all way. “The evidence that you just all but spelled out for me.” He folded his hands atop the desk. “You must realize how colossally transparent you are at the moment.”

Sherlock paused, looking down for a moment. “And where did the surveillance footage go?” His voice had gotten a little smaller, perhaps even a bit sheepish. “Was it being fed back to Sherringford? And if so…what happened to it?”

“It was being fed there, yes. And I was going to leave its ultimate fate to you. I could of course have my people review it if-“

“No,” Sherlock answered without hesitation. “Absolutely nobody is to review that footage.”

Mycroft’s brow shot up. “It’ll be going in the bin then, I assume?”

"Yes," Sherlock agreed firmly before standing and buttoning his suit jacket. “There’s absolutely no need to compromise Molly’s privacy any further.”

“Or yours?” Mycroft asked receiving a small glare from his brother. “There’s little point in denying it.”

Sherlock picked up the file and marched to the door. “Thank you for providing the final report. And if you could continue to provide a helicopter biweekly at the previously specified time, that would be appreciated.”

“Indefinitely?” Mycroft questioned.

“Is our sister ever again to see the light of day?” Sherlock asked with his hand poised at the door.

Mycroft’s expression fell a bit. “You know very well that she can’t,” he confirmed solemnly.

Sherlock nodded. “Then yes…indefinitely.”

"And have you spoken to Molly Hooper? Since that day?"

Sherlock stopped again before opening the door. He turned to face his brother again. “What do you care?”

Mycroft shrugged. “Call it curiosity I suppose. I wondered if perhaps there was more damage done than what was inflicted on that ill fated coffin.”

Sherlock’s lips were set in a hard line and his eyes were tired. “Let’s put it this way- that was the last call of mine that she’s answered. And when I’ve seen her in passing, she is indifferent at best. I imagine that I could more easily piece together that stupid coffin than anything resembling a friendship with Molly Hooper.” He smiled wryly at his brother. “Thank you for asking.”

With that, Sherlock took his leave.

Mycroft sat there silently for a moment, alone with his thoughts. But finally, he pressed the intercom on his phone. “Anthea, would you come in here for a moment? I have a small but urgent delivery that I’d like for you to arrange.”

* * *

 

“Molly, thanks again,” John said as he walked into her flat.

“No problem. She was a peach, as usual,” Molly stated with a smile. “I can go get her up now if you need to run.”

“Oh no, it’s fine. Give her a few more minutes sleeping. And here, I grabbed your mail for you.” He set the envelopes and things on her kitchen counter.

Molly started flipping through but made a face when she came to a plain white heavier envelope with just her name on the front. “This was in there too?”

“Yeah it was.”

She opened it and pulled out a DVD…with nothing but a date written on it. A date three weeks ago she’d rather forget. She’d had a bad day.

“John, what is this?” Molly demanded, her voice hardening.

Fear flooded John’s gaze now. “I- I dunno. But there’s been quite a lot of DVDs being mailed around these days so…maybe we should call Sherlock.”

“No!” Molly looked embarrassed right away after shooting down that offer so quickly. “I just, um, I haven’t spoken to him in a few weeks so…”

“Yeah, about that...look, I think he’d really like to-” John paused, clearly not sure what to say himself. “A lot happened on that island and with his sister. Things I didn’t want to tell you the last time we talked because I’m sure there’s some of it he’d like to explain himself if you gave him the chance.”

Molly shook her head, staring down at the disk. Yes, she knew where the three men had been some weeks ago and that this was when she’d received that dreadful phone call, but beyond that she wasn’t even sure if she wanted to know more.

“John, I’m glad you told me what you did before, but really, anything that Sherlock has to say...I dunno if I’m ready to hear it.”

“I think you’ll want to,” John said softly.

She smiled at John as best she could. "I'll think about it.”

“Hey, do you want me to stay? Are you gonna try and watch that now? Just in case of...whatever it is.”

Molly nodded. “Yeah. Maybe you should stay. I mean, what if it’s…” She swallowed hard.

John nodded. “Right. Ok let’s do this then.”

They made their way into the sitting room and John set up the DVD. He took a seat next to Molly on the sofa and gave her hand a little pat before pressing play. They were both equally shocked when Mycroft’s face appeared on the screen.

“Hello, Dr. Hooper,” Mycroft said with a smile. “Not to worry, everything is fine. I simply thought there was something you should see with your own eyes. I believe I can be at least partly held responsible for much of what occurred some weeks ago, so perhaps I feel the need to right a few wrongs. Please do take my advice and give the rest of this DVD a watch. It is something that is difficult to comprehend if you haven’t witnessed it with your own eyes. And I believe it is something you have the right to understand to the full.” One more small smile and Mycroft’s face disappeared.

Before either Molly or John could say anything, the picture switched to a stone room with a coffin on display in the middle. At that moment, John’s hand went to his mouth.

“Oh God, this is at Sherringford.”

“What?” Molly looked horrified. “You mean where you all were? With Eurus?”

Sherlock's voice came on then.

_“Is there really no one there that can help you? Have you really **really** checked?”_

Molly began listening to the exchange between him and the little girl’s voice with her heart in her throat. But that was nothing compared to her level of anxiety once Eurus began speaking to him and explaining about someone’s life hanging in the balance.

_“Whose coffin, Sherlock? Please, start your deductions.”_

Molly felt John grab her hand at that moment. Clearly he knew this wasn't going to be pleasant. She listened as Sherlock rattled off the particulars of what sort of person would inhabit this coffin and then saw his face shift as Mycroft presented him with the plaque on the top of the lid. And then Sherlock face truly fell as he made the final deductions about who the coffin must be for.

“Oh God,” Molly breathed, squeezing John’s hand tighter. “I don’t know if I can-“

“No, Mycroft is right,” John countered, back and shoulders straight. “He’s right, you need to see this. But I’m right here, I’ll stay with you.”

Only minutes later and she was softly weeping while staring at the screen with her heart pounding in her ears. Molly held her breath at her own hesitance to respond to the repeated declaration from Sherlock. He stared at the screen, begged desperately, and Molly squeezed John’s hand all the more tightly as she watched herself take her time bringing the phone close to her lips and then finally whispering the words in return.

_“I love you.”_

Molly covered her face for a moment as a sob escaped but John tugged at her hands.

“No no, Molly, please keep watching.”

She wiped at her eyes and focused on the screen again as she listened in horror to Eurus words explaining to Sherlock that there was never any danger and that he’d done nothing but succeeding in hurting himself and her. She watched in some confusion at first as Sherlock walked slowly over and picked up the lid to the coffin and put it in place, running his hand along the top. But a second later her hand flew to her mouth again and she let out a little gasp at the sight of Sherlock losing all control and smashing the coffin to bits with his bare hands. She could hear his screams echoing and watched as he finally collapsed against the stone wall and slid down to sit, completely spent of energy, looking broken and beaten.

A second later, the screen went black.

“Oh God,” Molly murmured and then covered her face again and let the tears fall freely. John put his arms around her and held her tightly for a moment. When she finally pulled away, she sniffed and sighed. Mycroft was right. She had needed to see that with her own eyes.

“He never meant to hurt you, Molly,” John said softly. “It was the last thing Sherlock wanted. And the knowledge that he had, and not even for the purpose of saving your life…” He shook his head. “I think that it broke him. We watched people, innocent people, die in front of our eyes, most of them because of decisions that we were forced to make. But he didn’t break down like that at any other moment that day. Only then, only about you.”

She nodded. “Yeah, I um, I didn’t think he could be that cruel. I was surprised that even he would pull something like that; demanding something like that over the phone. Especially given what we’d-“ She stopped herself and smiled nervously at John. “I should probably just talk to him.”

He smiled and gave her back a little rub. “Yeah I hope you two, you know, work it out. I know he can be a git, but he cares. He really does care about you. He wanted to save your life, but I don’t think he was lying, especially not losing it like he did. I know what it means to um…” He scratched his temple, hesitating. “To be afraid of losing someone who means that much. It can very nearly tear you apart.”

She put her arm around him, giving his shoulder an extra squeeze. Of course he knew what was like.

“Thanks, John,” Molly said genuinely. “And thanks for staying with me. It wasn’t easy to watch. Nothing like having to live through it though, I’m sure.”

“We’re all just happy to be safe now.” John started to get up, but then stopped and spoke again. “By the way, it wasn’t really what I was able to appreciate in that moment seeing as, you know, I thought you were about to be blown to bits.”

Molly couldn’t help a small laugh, despite the gravity of the whole thing.

“But, if I’m able to factor that bit out now,” John continued with a look of something like deep respect. “That had to be one of the most...amazing things I’ve ever seen someone make Sherlock do; to say those words. For whatever it’s worth, it was incredible to witness.”

Molly smiled. Maybe he was right. Maybe it was incredible in a way. She certainly did consider it a bit of a miracle in that moment. Though, she could hardly call it a victory. There were no winners, not really. Maybe Eurus had been right.

As John packed up Rosie and her things and left that afternoon, Molly was left with the realization that nothing was simple. Nothing was as simple as the fact that they were all alive and walking around and grateful for that fact. It was all so much messier and more complicated than that.

And now, all the complications would just have to be dealt with.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All aboard the feels train! We're about to start cleaning up this emotional mess lol. :D

Sherlock sat bolt upright in bed, beads of sweat on his forehead as he drew breath in gasps. Upon glancing around and realizing his safety in Baker St, the morning light brightening his room despite its current state of construction. He heaved a sigh of relief and fell back against his pillow again.

He'd had the same dream again. This was the fifth time in these past three weeks. He was always back in that cement room and on that same phone call. And up to a certain point things always went just as they had in reality. But there were a couple of alternate endings that played out in his troubled mind, and neither of them were good.

He started to sweat again and threw the covers back, sitting up and swinging his legs over the edge of the bed. There would be no more sleep for him that morning.

Sherlock was agitated as he got up that day, perhaps partly due to the rude awakening that his subconscious had forced upon him. As if his life wasn't turned upside down enough, he was forced to attempt to live and work amidst a construction zone. He was beginning to feel like his mind palace was just as much of a wreck as his physical home. He had the notion to vacate both, but he knew there was no option of escape at the moment. At least, none that he was allowed.

Sherlock slipped a shirt off the dry cleaner's hanger on his bedroom door and pulled it over his shoulders. As he stood in front of the mirror and worked the buttons up from the bottom, he stopped and recognized something. Something unfortunate for him in this case.

He touched a very small stain on his chest. It was faded from its original brightness against the light blue, but naturally hadn't come out completely in the wash. The stain was from a tiny splatter of tomato sauce...from the dinner Molly made him that last night he'd stayed at her flat some weeks before. It had been a little chilly out and she had her fireplace going. She said the dinner wasn't much, but thought she should throw something together because according to her he was "wasting away." Sherlock remembered rolling his eyes, but secretly reveling in the fact that he was about to have a hot meal. He had, after all, been to Hell and back. And there didn't tend to be quality dining in that sort of place.

Sherlock almost changed his shirt, but then opted not to, purely out of laziness of course. The suit jacket would cover the stain, so what did it matter anyway? He wished he hadn't noticed it though, because now that meal was all he could think about. If Molly Hooper's spaghetti had been there at that moment he felt sure he'd be happy to have that for breakfast along with his coffee.

And there were other memories lingering now as well.

He forced himself to finish dressing and leave the bedroom, desperate for some sort of distraction. He tried checking his email, he made some coffee, he irritated Mrs. Hudson downstairs for a while and stole some treats from her fridge…none of it did too much to occupy his mind though.

By early afternoon Sherlock had finished hunting down a number of books online that had been lost in the blast. Some were easily replaced, but others were less common, or possibly out of print. That was a nice distracting activity. He was admittedly sorry when it was done and there was nothing more to do but shut his laptop, listening as the builders made their way out of the flat for the day.

Sherlock stuck his hands in his trouser pockets and strolled over to the window, looking out on the slightly drizzly weather and the drops occasionally hitting the recently replaced glass. His gaze fell on his fireplace, not up and running again yet. This brought his mind back again to the pristine fireplace at Molly Hooper's flat.

He cursed under his breath at the memories that kept resurfacing. Those memories that were so soft and sweet and tender that sometimes he could hardly believe they belonged to him…to both of them.

He released a heavy breath and took a seat in his chair, giving in to the things that his brain kept pushing and insisting upon. He shut his eyes, seeing that night so clearly in his mind…the fire, the dinner plates that she didn't hurry to clear, Toby curled up near the flames, the medical journals she'd spread out to help distract him from any jitters or discomfort, and then that warm blanket that she'd fetched when she saw even the slightest hint of a shiver run through him. No, he hadn't been in the very best place then, but the care she was willing to give made him feel better than he had in quite a long time. He felt safe and comfortable and accepted. But that wasn't all he ended up feeling.

Molly had looked at him at one point, as she sat next to him on her couch and wrapped a blanket around his shoulders, and she said, "You're a good man. You can push through this. You're going to be just fine, I know it." And then she gave him a warm smile.

And just like that, something snapped.

He thought back on the years and years that Molly had stood by him and not only made him a better man, but believed he _already was one_. Whether he was or not wasn't the point, just like John had said to him not long before. The point was that that's what she taught him to be. And in turn that's what she made him want to be. And all of a sudden, there was absolutely nothing he wanted more than her.

It wasn't even a conscious decision for him to wrap his hand around the back of her neck and crash his lips into hers. In the moment, there was nothing more obvious and natural, and so why bother with dull things like questions? And clearly she felt the same. She hadn't questioned anything, not in the moment. In fact it felt almost like they'd carefully planned it out, had a conversation beforehand, and were in complete and total harmony, both physically and mentally.

It hadn't been until early the next morning that they were a bit less in sync. Sherlock was well aware, especially in hindsight, that it had been his own doing.

He shut his eyes tight then, remembering the way she'd looked at him with hurt already growing in her eyes as he emerged from the bedroom fully clothed and announced that he really couldn't stay for coffee seeing as John would be at Baker St in less than an hour. He had been frightened, in all honesty. Scared to death would probably have been an accurate description. Had he woken and been sorry? No. But he also hadn't the foggiest idea what to do from there forward, which was always the recipe for certain disaster.

Molly had tried to make an effort, which sadly did little to make the situation any easier…

" _Sherlock, I-" She left off her coffee preparation to step closer to him. "I just want you to know how much it means to me that we-"_

" _We don't actually have to do this part, do we?" he questioned quite genuinely while pulling his coat on._

_She frowned. "What? You mean talking? You don't think we should talk about what happened last night?"_

_He gave her what he thought would be a friendly smile. "I think we both understand what happened last night. I'm not sure what merits discussing." This did not have the effect he hoped for though._

_Her jaw hung open in horror for a moment as she stared at him. But she was quick on the uptake and looked away as she tied her dressing gown more tightly around her middle, almost as if it assisted in holding her together. "God...oh my...oh God." She had clearly begun to panic. "W-what was that last night? Did that mean absolutely nothing to you?!"_

" _Don't be ridiculous, of course it meant something." His attempt at a casual tone only fueled her mounting anger._

" _Don't you dare tell me I'm being ridiculous, don't you dare!" Her hands had balled up to fists at her side, and her voice had begun to shake. "If you think you're allowed to just…to use me and then walk off like nothing ever happened, then you are not the man I thought you were!"_

" _Molly, you know exactly who I am," he stated firmly. "And you've always understood that I don't-"_

" _Don't what? Don't do relationships?" She crossed her arms over her middle. "So this is what you think things have become now, between us. Not only can you hide out at my flat, call on my help with cases night and day, and ask for specimens from the hospital to experiment on, but now you think you can ask me for this?!"_

" _No of course I would never ask you for this," he insisted desperately. "I was under the impression that wasn't some sort of favor and that we were both in agreement!"_

" _We were!" Molly's voice rose considerably. "Because I was under the impression that by some miracle you had reconsidered your feelings about relationships and actually felt something for me!"_

" _I do feel...something for you." The fact that he hesitated made any conviction in his tone completely invalid._

_Molly shook her head in bewilderment. "But you don't feel what I feel. You have no clue what that's like, do you? Sherlock, do you have the first idea how deeply I-"_

" _Molly, please don't." He cut her off before even thinking about how hurtful it would be. It was a knee jerk reaction. He'd taught himself to dodge emotions the same way he dodged punches in the boxing ring. But the instant he did it, he saw how much more damage was done than he'd anticipated._

_Her eyes welled to overflowing almost instantly. "It's that unpleasant to you, is it?" She nodded, wiping at her her eyes for a moment._

" _Molly…"_

" _Get out, Sherlock." When he hung there unmoving for a moment she spoke more forcefully. "There's nothing more to say right now. Please leave."_

_He wanted so badly to stop her from hurting, to make her smile again, and to show her that he did truly care. But in that moment, what he had to say and give simply wasn't enough. So she was right, there really wasn't anything more to say. And there was nothing to do but leave her be as she requested. So he did..._

Sherlock ran his hands over his face and exhaled heavily, feeling the full emotional weight of those memories as they played and replayed in his mind. Yes, he felt it. He felt all the emotions of what he'd done and how he'd hurt her. He knew that it made that blasted phone call a hundred times worse than if he had never given in and spent a blissful night with Molly Hooper in her bed. Eurus was right: he had lost. But in the same moment he considered that possibility, he spoke the word aloud.

"No."

Sherlock jetted out of his chair to grab his coat. He refused to sit back and accept that what he'd done and what they'd been forced to live through had done irreparable damage. He realized in that moment that he could never allow that to happen. He couldn't live like that.

His clarity and focus was intense now and he wondered if perhaps, ironically, he should thank his sister for the motivational push to make things right with this woman whom he so little deserved. Because the whole experience had taught him something deeper than life and death: it made him realize more than ever what he truly needed. What he needed was a whole lot more than for Molly Hooper to simply be alive.

And now it was time to tell her.

* * *

Molly glanced at the time on her mobile as she heard the knock at her door. She had the late shift at Bart's in another couple of hours, so she hoped whatever this was wouldn't eat up the rest of her relaxation time before work. Once she actually opened her door though, she realized that yes indeed…this was going to eat up some time.

Sherlock stared at her across the threshold, his eyes reaching out in a way that she'd not seen in quite some time. Perhaps if Mycroft hadn't sent her that footage a couple days before, she would have simply pushed him off again. But seeing that had at least given her the needed perspective about their phone call, and that was enough to motivate her to hear whatever he had to say next.

"Come in," she said softly, stepping aside.

He hung his coat by the door and strolled in, looking a little worn if she were honest. She figured maybe he could use something hot to drink, and hopefully that would break the ice a bit.

"Do you want-"

"I need you."

Molly stared at him slack jawed, frozen in the midst of gesturing to the kitchen and tea kettle. She finally let her arm drop and cleared her throat. She had to will herself not to completely melt at that sound in his voice or that look in his eyes. By now she knew that it was much better to be overly cautious.

"Sherlock," she began softly. "You can't just say that."

"Why? I mean it," he stated, dead serious.

She sighed. "Look, we need to talk. I mean _really_ talk."

"Yes, I know," he agreed, following her into the kitchen as she automatically went to fill the kettle. "I need to explain about the phone call."

"I know about the phone call."

He frowned for a moment, but then gave a nod of understanding. "John or Mycroft?"

"Mycroft," she confirmed. "He sent me footage from Sherringford. Though John was here as well."

Sherlock let out a short laugh. "Yes I suppose I'm not surprised. Seems my brother is trying his hand at a touch of sentiment lately."

"I um, I would have gotten in touch soon. I was still just, you know, processing everything myself. It was…really something to see." She glanced at him, both of them understanding which part in particular she was referring to.

Sherlock leaned on the counter. "I'm sorry," he stated, apparently feeling that a general apology was an order.

Molly gave him a tight smile. "Yes, but…what for, Sherlock?" Her question wasn't angry or bitter. She genuinely wanted to know. Because she could see that he was truly sorry. That much was clear. But this was the time for open honesty. Not blanket apologies and sweeping the rest under the rug.

He paused for a moment, likely trying to figure the answer out for himself. "For the pain I caused. For both of us, though mostly for you."

Molly considered this. "Ok, yes, so we're in pain, I agree. But I have to know what kind of pain it is that you're feeling. I know what my pain is. But you have to be specific, Sherlock. You say you need me and you say you're in pain." She spoke a bit more pointedly. "So please explain it to me. Make me understand."

His expression _was_ one of pain in that moment. She knew she was asking the world of him; demanding that he fully open up his heart and spill all the gory details. But in this case, she was willing to put him through it, because she knew that it was exactly what he owed her.

He shut his eyes and exhaled slowly before beginning.

"I wanted them to be just words," he said softly, staring off at nothing. "I wanted to save you more than anything else, but I thought that the simplest way to do that would be to request that you say those three words as if reciting a to-do list. I told myself that if I asked you to simply do that for some unnamed mundane purpose, nothing would really change. I didn't truly realize how wrong I was till you made me say it." He looked back into her eyes.

"Molly, when I said it, _really_ said it that second time, I didn't just say it. I felt it. And that's when I knew how impossible it was for you to speak those words simply because I requested it. Which terrified me in the moment, because when you hesitated I wondered if you quite understandably might not be able to do it. And I thought that in less than fifteen seconds…I could lose you forever."

Molly swallowed hard around the lump in her throat.

"So yes, I was hurting. Even when I realized that you were safe, it hurt. Because I knew we'd just done something…" He seemed to search for the correct words. "Life altering. But it hadn't happened in the way that you or even I deserved. And I knew that even though you weren't in any danger, I could still lose you in this mess that had been made."

She managed to push the words out. "It was true?"

Sherlock nodded slowly. "Of course it was true," he confirmed in a whisper. Then he drew another deep breath. "Which brings me to the events of last month."

Molly braced herself for this part, because this was the bigger issue. The deeper issue to be settled.

"I knew I wanted you that night. I had no doubt about that. And I had no regrets the next morning. I even fully accepted the fact that I'd likely continue to want you. It meant something to me, of course it did," he stated firmly. "But I didn't know what to do about it." He stopped talking and his face fell a bit.

She had listened carefully, and was now reading between the lines just as carefully. So she stepped in and filled in the little gap that he'd just left.

"You still don't know what to do about it, do you?" she asked gently.

He gave her a rueful smile. "No, Molly…I don't."

She nodded, pressing her lips together as she decided where to go from there. "I figured," she finally said, very honestly.

He stepped a little closer and spoke with more conviction. "But I do need you, Molly. I meant that. I need you in my life. That's what I'm doing here right now. I finally came to the conclusion that I had to do whatever it took to put the pieces back together…for us."

She looked back at him with hope very cautiously waiting in the wings, ready to make an entrance depending on his next words. "And then what?"

"And then…" He swallowed and hesitated before speaking his clear and simply answer. "We see what happens."

Surprisingly, maybe even to herself, Molly found a small smile taking shape on her lips. There was surely a time when she would have wished for him to say something else at that poignant moment. Something bigger. Perhaps that he'd request a relationship right off the bat, or ask her to get married, knowing Sherlock's lack of patience for the things he found tedious. But now, in some strange way, this was exactly what she'd hoped for. Yes, they loved each other. But she knew now that the grand romantic steps weren't what came next. There were far more important things that needed to happen first. And then, yes, they'd go from there.

"Ok," she agreed softly, enjoying the way his eyes brightened a touch at that single word. "Yes, let's…see what happens."

Sherlock smiled as well, emitting a little sigh of relief while staring at her intently. He took a step towards her but then stopped himself, his expression instantly becoming unsure.

"Molly, I realize that we are at a sort of crossroads and the future is admittedly uncertain. I also admit now that I shouldn't have been so hasty last month in acting on feelings which I didn't yet know what to do with. But despite all that…would you consider it completely inappropriate that I'd very much like to kiss you right now?"

Molly felt a wave of emotion wash over her at his humble request. This was the man she loved. This man, standing here before her waiting patiently but desperately for her blessing to proceed. She hoped that tears wouldn't completely ruin what was about to happen, because there was no way she'd be able to hold them back now.

She answered him in a shaky whisper. "Please kiss me, Sherlock."

He didn't have to be told twice.

Sherlock instantly moved to grasp her face and press his lips to hers. They clung to each other, holding on tight to what they had now both agreed should not be allowed to slip away. Eventually, Sherlock pulled away from their kiss, but he didn't let her go. He kept his arms around her and buried his face in her neck where she could now feel his steady breathing. Molly held on just as tightly, resting her cheek against his soft curly hair. It was difficult to say who was supporting who in that moment, seeing as they were both so near to tumbling over an edge.

Molly felt a calm settle in then, and she could almost feel his body relax against her, as if he were experiencing the very same thing. Things were far from perfect at the moment, and there was still so much work left to do. So much left to rebuild…but at least there was something to work with.

"I love you," she whispered, smiling at the realization that it could just slip out now, simply because the moment moved her.

She waited patiently, feeling his lips slowly opening against her skin, knowing that this was one of those things that might not come so easily. But then his arms tightened around her just a bit.

"I love you too."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks, Lexie, for bearing with me as I wrote and then rewrote this! I am definitely glad I did. Hope you guys enjoyed this feelsy update. I am not quite finished yet though. I will do one more chapter, as one more step to filling in the blanks for sherlolly in TFP. Would love any feedback you've got! ;)


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! Here we have the third and final part to this little fic. This is somewhat short, but I just thought I wanted one more piece to help wrap things up neatly. Thanks again to Lexie for polishing it up. ;)

Sherlock pushed through the double doors into the early afternoon sunshine, smiling a little as he caught sight of his ride waiting on the street.

“Please tell me I don’t have to ride in the boot this time,” he said with a smirk.

“I think we can make an exception, seeing as it’s a special occasion,” Molly replied with a smile as he approached.

He stopped in front of where she was leaning against the sports car, taking the hand she extended out to him and meeting her eyes. “Hi,” she said quietly with a smile.

“Hi,” he replied, returning her smile before he bent his head down to press a quick kiss to her forehead before pulling away again. “Shall we?”

Sherlock and Molly climbed into Mrs. Hudson’s Aston Martin and Molly began driving.

“Exactly what did you have to offer Mrs. Hudson to use her car?”

“Like I said, it’s a special occasion, Sherlock. It’s not every day we have so much to celebrate.” Molly explained brightly. “Besides, she just trusts me more than you boys. I’ve borrowed her car a few times.”

Sherlock pursed his lips. “I’ll have to have you ask for me in the future.”

“Nope,” she replied instantly with a little giggle. “So how do you feel?”

“Vaguely like…I’d just finished ninety days at an inpatient rehab facility.”

Molly swung her arm over to gently whack him in the chest. “You did, you clot. But how do you  _ feel _ ?”

He sighed dramatically. “As if I could take on the world! Does that inspire more confidence?”

“A bit,” she laughed.

“I’m also ready to solve every single case that London has to offer, anything from a one to a ten, seeing as I’ve already conclusively deduced every single employee and patient inside that facility…at least five times over.”

“A bit intellectually starved, I’m sure,” Molly stated with a sympathetic smile. “Oh and by the way, I was thinking we’d make a stop before I drop you at Baker St. I wanted to go to the-“

“Yes, I already know exactly where we’re going,” he stated with a small smile. He glanced in the back seat. “You’ve brought flowers. And though I realize you’re pleased to be picking me up, I don’t believe you would actually bring me flowers. Not really my style. And they’re not for your flat either. Not you’re your personal favorite…no, they were someone else’s favorite.”

Molly glanced over at him to give him a gentle smile. “It’s alright with you if we go then?”

“It’s more than alright.” He glanced out the window, enjoying the familiar sights of London. “I’d say you read my mind.”

Ten minutes later Sherlock and Molly strolled along in the sunshine till they reached that small spot near the shade of a tree. That small spot that had become the final resting place for their friend.

Molly bent down and placed the fresh white calla lilies in the small vase attached to the simple headstone that bore the name of Mary Watson. Beloved wife, mother, and friend. Gone but never forgotten.

She stood up again and after a moment more of reverent silence, Molly reached over and felt for Sherlock’s hand, at which point they each did their part to lace their fingers tightly together.

Sherlock couldn’t quite tear his eyes from her name. Just her simple name etched into the stone.  _ Mary Watson…t _ he only life that was worth living to her.

He blinked and swallowed hard, tightening his grasp on the small hand in his.

“She’d be proud of you today,” Molly said softly.

“Mm,” Sherlock hummed in gentle agreement.

_ The danger was the fun part, but you can’t outrun that forever. You need to remember that. _

Yes, he knew she was right. Perhaps she would be proud of him for taking steps to eliminate one of those dangers from his life.

"Sherlock…” Molly hesitated. “Did Mary know? I mean, about how...well, about me?”

Sherlock raised an eyebrow at her.

Molly shrugged one shoulder. “It’s just that she said something to me once. The conversation was so brief, but she just seemed so sure. I brushed it off at the time, but recently, with everything, I began to wonder if you’d ever talked to her about me.”

Sherlock was intrigued now. “What exactly did she say?”

“Well, I was at their flat one day not long after Mary had Rosie, and you kept texting me questions having to do with a case and I could barely even hold a full conversation. I made some comment about how frustrating you could be sometimes and that I wasn’t sure how I managed to put up with you all these years.” She chuckled at Sherlock’s slight eye roll. “But the point is that she gave me a little nudge and said, ‘oh come on, you know underneath all of that he absolutely loves you.’ And I remember laughing and telling her she was crazy. But she insisted that, no, she was serious and it was so clearly obvious. She said she was sure one day I’d be convinced as well.”

The corner of Sherlock’s lips lifted as he glanced back at the headstone. “She was better than all of us, wasn’t she?” he whispered.

Molly leaned her head on Sherlock’s arm. “She was the best,” she whispered back. “And what you did, what you finished today, that wasn’t just for you. It was partly for her. As well as for John and Rosie and Mrs. Hudson and your family. For everyone.”

“And you,” he stated, giving her a soft look.

Molly looked up at him, her heart in her eyes as she smiled just a little while examining his features. “And me,” she said in barely a whisper.

They stayed for a few more minutes at the serene little spot in the cemetery, then walked back to the car and drove to Baker St. Sherlock took his small bag and bid Molly farewell till later that evening, and then he happily ascended the stairs to his home.

He could still smell the fresh paint and detect the slight changes based on the fact that so much had to be literally rebuilt. There was only so much that was salvageable. But it was still home. This was still his 221B Baker St, and he couldn’t be happier to be back. It was time to get back to his life; to all their lives. He craved a sense of normalcy now, and although nothing would ever be the same in some ways, there were also things that would never change. He happily clung to those things in the midst of riding those frightening waves of change.

He clung to the people he loved.

* * *

 

“So Molly picked you up?” John asked, bouncing Rosie a little on his knee.

“Mm, yes.”

“And how’s that going then?”

Sherlock narrowed his eyes at John. “How is what going?”

John chuckled. “Ok, so I guess you’re still not defining anything.”

“I only just checked out of a rehab facility this afternoon, John. This is hardly the time for all that. Besides, I’d like to think that what Molly Hooper and I are goes beyond what requires an official definition,” he said with an air of pride as he rose from his chair.

“Well yeah, I can agree with that.” He shifted Rosie on his lap so she could see Sherlock as he began playing his violin. “So what time will she be here?”

“Any minute actually. She’s excited to see the flat. Hasn’t seen it since all the work’s been done, seeing as I’ve been away.” He smiled down at the baby who grinned up at him while he played.

As Sherlock’s song came to a close a few minutes later, that familiar pair of footsteps did indeed make their way to his door. And when Molly Hooper stepped onto the threshold of 221B, just for a brief moment, time slowed down for Sherlock.

He recalled many times that he’d seen her in his doorway over the years. Looking radiant and glamorous at that infamous Christmas party, answering his request for her to come help him when he wanted her to solve crimes with him for the day, later when she stood there with another frighteningly familiar looking man on her arm…and so many other scattered times that were engraved on his memory. But this particular moment, it felt different.

Molly beamed as she stood there for a moment and glanced around her at the newly finished but familiar flat. And then she smiled at Sherlock, crossing the room to where he stood by the fireplace. Sherlock returned her smile as she reached him and raised herself on tiptoes to press a little kiss to his cheek.

“Everything’s just perfect!” She grinned at John and Rosie as the baby girl reached out to her and John handed her over. “Isn’t it, Rosie? Isn’t everything lovely? Ooh yes, look at this pretty skull!”

John chuckled as he walked over to where Sherlock stood and they both observed Molly speaking affectionately to Rosie.

“Please just tell me you’re not going to wait around forever,” John whispered to him.

“If you are about to lecture me once again along the lines of ‘High Wycombe is better than I’m currently equipped to understand,’” Sherlock whispered back. “Let me assure you that I am equipped, I do understand, and therefore no, I will not wait around forever.” He grinned at his friend.

“Ok then,” John responded as his brow shot up. “Guess I can save my speeches this time around. Glad you were paying such close attention last time though.”

“It was the sort of speech to remember, for many reasons,” Sherlock said softly and they exchanged a look. He’d certainly never forget that particular day and those specific words that were spoken by his best friend.  

John twisted his lips a little as he glanced back at Molly and Rosie. “She’d be glad,” he said. “About everything I think.”

“I think so too, John,” Sherlock agreed and laid a supportive hand on his shoulder.

Yes, there were many things about their lives of late that were far from perfect. Worse than that even. There were things that had happened that were downright horrible and unspeakable. But as Sherlock glanced around his sitting room at the people that he loved that he’d surely never take for granted again, he knew that although of some things it could rightly be said, “it is what it is,” for all that he could see in front of his eyes at the moment…

It was exactly as it should be.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Maybe it's not the most warm and fuzzy thought, but Lexie and I both agreed that he HAD to get himself to rehab by this point. Like, no way should Molly be willing to even attempt anything till he gets himself together and realizes that he can't keep going back down that path for himself or for the supposed benefit of others. Cannot continue to be a pattern. So I felt like it was important to include. And yeah, I didn't have them building a life together by the end of this one, but I honestly am not sure they'd be at that point yet. Even given her grin at the end of TFP. I think they could very well be headed that way, but in reality I think it could still take some time. Idk, that's my HC at least. Hope you guys enjoyed this!  
> And coming soon will be my next sherlolly project which was planned before S4 aired. It'll be a fun one I think. Will be posting the first chapter probably tomorrow. ;)


End file.
